


Damn Shame

by AnxiousBlueBear



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Consensual Underage Sex, How Do I Tag, Implied Sexual Content, Lube, M/M, Morning After, Only implied though - Freeform, Referenced Alcohol, SO, brief food mention, i guess this is a thing, that i wrote, whoops, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29729433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnxiousBlueBear/pseuds/AnxiousBlueBear
Summary: Wilbur wakes up, and discovers that he's had a one-night-stand.  With one of his friends.And he freaks out.(For a good reason)------No explicit content!  It is, however, implied quite heavily.  Read the notes if you want to comment hate.  <3
Relationships: Wilbur Soot/TommyInnit
Comments: 16
Kudos: 188





	Damn Shame

**Author's Note:**

> Uh... hi.  
> :/  
> This is sort of a ship fic? I'd say that it mostly shows denial in relation to pedophilia.
> 
> Also! If you want to pass hatred, feel free to use the comment section. A warning; I will be moderating comments, as I want the comments to be a safe place for everyone. If you send in a comment that I feel could be heavily negative for someone to see, I will, sadly, deny it. I'm interested in nicely-worded arguments, not screaming and pissing.

When Wilbur wakes up, he's met with the pounding of his head. However, the warm blankets around him are wonderfully comforting.

It's not all too comforting, though, to wake up cuddling an unknown person. What makes it worse is the soft glide of bare skin he can feel when he gently drags his hand up the other person's side.

It takes a few minutes for him to gather the energy to sit up and look around, recognizing the room as his own.

' _Well_ , _at least I'm not in someone else's house.'_

He tries to think about what had happened the previous night, but the only thing his mind can grasp is the early evening. Wilbur had met up with many of his friends living in England, the party exclusive to the group of streamers. Wilbur vividly remembers Phil clapping him on the back, both of them laughing at a joke that he can't remember now. It was fun, seeing Niki, fundy, and George, even Tommy and Tubbo had been present, though strictly disallowed from any alcohol.

 _'So,'_ Wilbur reasons to himself, _'Whoever I've slept with is someone I know.'_

He's a bit relieved, now knowing that whoever is one-night-stand is, it'll be something they can laugh off together later. Hopefully. There is always the chance of a horribly awkward atmosphere that could last for quite a while.

Wilbur takes a deep breath, and prepares himself to look over at the other person sharing his bed. 

His best guess is Niki, that they somehow fell into bed together, something almost fated to happen ever since the love-or-host. He momentarily thinks that it's a damn shame about not remembering the late evening, but it's probably for the better. If it is indeed Niki, then things will go back to normal fairly quickly, no need to mourn the loss of something that he can't recall.

Wilbur turns his head, fully expecting to see long, splayed out hair across his pillows and soft curves underneath the sheets.

What he gets instead are blonde tufts, short and messed up. What he sees when he turns around is the unmistakeable form of Tommy in his bed. What stuns him when he looks, is the harsh reality of a _minor_ laying under the blankets.

A cold chill fills his whole body, and he can't keep himself from staring at the boy. He looks peaceful, head resting on the pillow and his hands grasping the blanket. His eyes flutter in the soft light that shines from the window, the early morning sun drifting in and bathing the room with a golden glow.

Wilbur feels sick. Not enough to retch and choke on his own vomit, but enough that it toils and rocks in his stomach. It's as if his innards have embarked on a ship, tossing and turning over harsh waters. 

He can't move, not when the phone on his nightstand buzzes, once, twice, countless times. He can't move when the boy in his bed groans, squeezing his eyes closed, before gently opening. He can't move when Tommy sits up, hair still a mess, and grabs the phone off of Wilbur's nightstand.

He sits still, as if there's a chance that Tommy won't see him if he stays still enough. The boy looks at his phone, blinking in the morning light as he takes in a few texts. He seemingly doesn't think before typing out a response to the other, hitting send.

Tommy throws his phone a few feet to the edge of the bed, bringing his arms back behind him and stretching. His chest pushes out into the air, and his arms raise, muscles tensing. In a moment he releases the pose, settling back into a horrible posture. Wilbur's eyes move to trace the curve of his neck, still pale and unmarked. 

_'Shame that I was too drunk to leave any marks.'_

The sudden thought makes him release a quiet gasp into the quiet air. The boy looks up, seeing Wilbur sitting in the bed next to him, and he has the audacity to _smirk_. As if the two hadn't woken up together. As if this morning alone couldn't land Wilbur in _prison_.

"Mornin' Wil! Last night sure was something, eh?"

His mind falters. Was Tommy really alright with what had happened the previous night? Was he so pleased with it that he was willing to joke about something so seriously wrong?

"Sure." He replies dryly. His mind is reeling, trying to remember anything of the previous night. He's terrified of what he might remember, but it would feel better to at least know _something_.

Tommy doesn't seem to pick up on the curt reply, humming softly before throwing the blanket off and standing up. It's sudden, and Wilbur spends a horrifying second thinking that he'll see _all_ of Tommy and remember the previous night-

But no, Tommy's lower half is clad with grey boxers. The older man breathes out a sigh of relief and Tommy leaves the room entirely.

Wilbur shakily stands up himself, taking note that he's in a similar state of undress as Tommy was, wearing only boxers. Guilt causes his face to flush red, and he quickly moves towards his closet to find something to cover himself with. 

_'That doesn't mean anything. There are_ plenty _of illegal activities an adult and a_ minor _can get up to without taking off their underwear.'_

When Tommy comes back into the room (bathroom, Wilbur guesses), he's still quite unshy about being practically nude for the older man. Wilbur now wears an old shirt, soft from years of use, and some pajama bottoms. The boy smiles at him, reaching out his hands and arms and quickly flexing his fingers from extended to fists in a 'grabby' motion. Wilbur just stares, mind reaching horrible conclusions as Tommy makes the gesture.

"C'mon big man! I don't wanna walk around in me boxers all day. Be a good host and give me some pants, yeah?" Tommy says, donning a slight unplaceable accent halfway through his speech. Wilbur nods stiffly and grabs some clothes for the boy.

Once Tommy is dressed (Wilbur's clothes fits fairly well, except for the obvious bagginess), the boy suggests making some type of breakfast. Wilbur can do little but agree as Tommy pulls him by his arm to the kitchen, walking around the house as if he'd lived there for years.

Tommy cooks two omlettes, nearly burning both. It's nothing special, but they sit down together to eat the meal. The boy is filled with energy, delighted to be spending time with Wilbur. The man wishes that he felt the same, but all he can think about is how similar this seems to a 'morning after' type of situation. 

They're halfway through eating when Wilbur knows that he can't just ignore it. Whether he gets a good answer or a bad one, he _needs_ to know.

"Tommy? I'm going to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me. No jokes." Wilbur starts off, and he sees how Tommy's demeanor changes. The boy goes from smiling and laughing to serious and concerned in a few moments, picking up on Wilbur's tone.

"Yeah? What's up Wil?"

He takes a breath, anxiety filling his lungs, before exhaling. He _needs_ to know.

"I...I don't remember what happened last night." He introduces, studying Tommy for any hint of a change in his facial expression. The boy just stares, a slight furrow in his brow.

"It was irresponsible, especially in the presence of two... minors." He hesitates on the word, as it fills his mouth like blood.

"But I'm in the unfortunate position of... serious doubt of my own actions. All I remember of last night was the first bit of the party, and my first few drinks. If... If I was... If I attempted to... to _force_ myself on you in any way, then I believe you ought to know that it was not something that I would ever do, or try to attempt. I don't want to make you uncomfortable, but-"

"Wil, what're you talking about?" Tommy interrupts, confusion playing on his face. Wilbur feels a pang of relief, but he still needs to explain.

"Well... Tommy, when two, uhm, typically consenting adults wake up next to one another after partaking in a night of drinking... Then it's usually safe to presume that they, being in an intoxicated state... Well, hooked-up." Wilbur finishes, heat boiling up behind his face. He can't look at Tommy, the kid who's been such a good friend to him.

"Wait, Wilbur. You think that we fucked?" Tommy asks, sounding mortified. Wilbur looks down at the ground, embarrassed despite the lovely relief flooding his senses. 

_'Thank God. I'm not a fucking pedophile.'_

"I couldn't be sure that it didn't happen, Toms. Hell, I woke up cuddling you, and we were both only wearing boxers! Seems a bit 'sus,' doesn't it?" He asks, using a joking tone. He's elated when Tommy giggles quietly, knowing that the boy isn't horribly uncomfortable.

"I suppose. If you really don't remember last night, then I guess it would seem kind of weird waking up like that." 

"Wait, what happened last night?" Wilbur asks, finally looking up to catch Tommy's eyes. They gleam with mischief, a lovely smirk falling on his lips.

"You ran into me holding a drink. Spilled alcohol all over my clothes, then took me upstairs to change so I didn't smell like I was knee-deep in booze all night. Then u passed out on top of me so I couldn't move. I ended up falling asleep, but I thought you'd remember, not go off thinking we'd had sex." Tommy laughs at the memory, and Wilbur smiles. They both laugh a little at drunk Wilbur's antics, before resuming their normal conversation. 

Eventually, Tommy calls his dad to come pick him up. Wilbur and Tommy chill in the living room until he arrives, the older man still far too hungover to stream. When Tommy's dad arrives, they wish each other goodbye, as Wilbur watches the boy walk out of his house.

Wilbur tries not to think of how spilling a drink of Tommy would have had no reason for he himself to wake up lacking clothing. Wilbur tries not to acknowledge the thoughts the emerge, demanding to know why, if Wilbur had spilled an alcoholic beverage on the boy, why Tommy hadn't smelled anything like alcohol when they woke up together. Wilbur ignored his common sense, screaming that the room smelled like sex when he woke up, and that doesn't come from nowhere.

When Wilbur goes back to his room, he finds Tommy's clothes and picks them up. The fabric is soft in his hand, the red and white shirt still perfectly white, lacking any stains. Wilbur ignores the fact that he finds Tommy's clothes bunched up and thrown different places in the room, as If removed in haste. Wilbur ignores the scent still heavy in the air, the smell of fake, strawberry scented lube that sits in the top drawer of his nightstand. The one that Tommy's phone had been resting on all night, plugged in and charging. Wilbur ignores that it was in a position that he wouldn't've been able to reach without sitting up and reaching over to the outlet. 

Wilbur ignores the photos that have found a new home in his gallery, featuring a lovely boy with cherry-red lips and messy blonde hair.

Afterall, of Tommy was planning on saying anything, then he would've already done so.

_'Damn shame, that I can't remember anything from last night.'_

**Author's Note:**

> Me: I have to have a clear idea for a fix to write it, I can't just start something with no purpose, I need to-  
> Also me: hahaaaaaa, random burst of writing inspiration, let's start something with 0 plan and see where it goes lol
> 
> Thank you for reading! This is made with the idea to explore themes that, in many other circumstances, would make the viewer uncomfortable. I believe that pedophilia is wrong, and this work (and its author) is not advocating for pedophilia. Personally, I hold the belief that it is a mental disorder, which is why I'm interested in how it affects an individual. It's more complex than what the internet makes it out to be, and I aim to show that. Here, it's shown through Wilbur's denial and conflicting feelings, although he still falls into a pattern that is... questionable. I'm a psychology nerd, so I love trying to see through different lenses as to how something like this would affect someone. Once again, this is not written for the intention of normalizing pedophilia or glorifying it, but think of I think more as an exploration of themes and what effects that would take on a character. Thank you!


End file.
